Against All the Odds.

Aunty Betty Visser turned 100 today. I salute Aunty Betty, who, in the dark days of Apartheid, stood firm and defeated those who wanted to take away her land.

South Africa has a history of white people taking prime land away from people of colour. Early history is about this being done at the barrel-end of a gun. Later this was enacted by law before being enforced by the gun. The Apartheid Authorities designed a system to gain control of prime land by declaring land "white". This would mean that the land owners of colour could only sell their land to white people.

Aunty Betty had legal papers served on her, informing her that she, as a person of colour, now lived in land that was designated "white". She was therefore obliged to sell her land to a white person. There and then she resolved never to submit to this law. And she never did. She outlived this evil law - and saw it scrapped from the statute book.

She owns her home - and is free to sell/donate/bequeath it to whoever she pleases.
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Shops and Women

I am in a Japanese clothing shop with my daughter, her mother, and her grandmother. But I could be in a clothing shop back in South Africa - or anywhere else in the world for that matter. The fact is that these three women love clothing shops! They browse the isles fingering the fabric and making comments to each other. Then they take various articles and try them on. And then they put them back on the rack. "Just looking" they answer. 

I have now walked three times around this shop. I have spotted all the exits. I have found the toilet - but it is a traditional Japanese model so I have decided not to sample it. I am on nodding acquaintance with every staff member. I have even tried asking if they are through with this shop: to be told "Nearly done".

Then the words of blessed release: "We are ready!" I naturally assume this to mean that I should head for the checkout till. (Oh yes - guess who's credit card will get used!) So I waited at the till, until I saw that they had got distracted by a rack of 'sale' items strategically placed on the way to the till.

So I am sitting on a bench at the door. Waiting. Sigh. 
The only thing I am sure about right now - is that there are other shops still to come!

   
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Being a Couple

31 years ago Jenny and I promised to be a couple "till death us do part". These words sound so strange to the times we live in. Nobody commits him/herself to a project 'for life'. We commit while we have the strength, the interest, the finances, or until the context changes and other challenges replace the current one. So why are we still committed to being married to each other?

Certainly not because it is a habit. Neither is it because I have no other option. I wake up each morning and choose to be married. I am free to leave this relationship, and I am free to enter into a relationship with someone else. Jenny is not my jailor. Each day we offer each other a partnership all over again. This is freely given, without obligation. I have never felt trapped by my marriage to Jenny - because this is my reality: I choose to stay married.   

This does not imply that being married has been easy. That would be a lie. We have had moments when our weaknesses, and our deepest insecurities have been a source of great irritation to both of us. This has asked patience and kindness for one another - something we have had to learn, and will continue to learn over the years. As we have got older we are finding that we need to adjust to new frailties in each other. This is tough, because I am irritated enough at my failing body, without having to deal with a partner's newly discovered weaknesses - and her irritation at how her body fails her! Again: we are learning how to stay married under changed circumstances.

Let me answer before you ask: marriage has not make me immune to attractive women. I have very attractive women friends, and am grateful that Jenny is not jealous of these friendships. I am grateful for these women who have offered their friendship and support over the years, particularly when you have helped me continue to be married.

I love Jenny. This does not mean that we are always 'in love'. I know that there are times that I irritate her intensely - probably enough to commit murder (mine). I know too that there are times when I have failed her because my own interests and passions distract me from her needs. I am bewildered that she continues to get up each morning and stay married to me. But I am grateful that she does. I look forward to another year of choosing to be married to Jenny.
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Tower Bombing

Hiroshima Peace Memorial

Two different countries - each has a building that is bombed with thousands of innocent civilians that are killed.

In both instances the bombers justified this by answering that there are no 'innocents' because all are responsible for the decisions of the national leadership.

Two different countries - the same national grieving. One country loses three thousand lives. The other loses 140 000 lives.

Two countries - two very different responses: one stockpiles nuclear warheads in the belief that this will keep them safe. The other establishes a peace park and calls for the end to nuclear armaments.

Standing here in Hiroshima, nuclear warheads do not feel like the safer option.

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Hiroshima.

Hiroshima Peace Memorial

Today I stood at the epicentre of the first atom bomb’s target. On 6 August 1945 this bomb was dropped from an American B-29, the Enola Gay, at 0815 local time. Nearly 70,000 people are believed to have been killed immediately, with possibly another 70,000 survivors dying of injuries and radiation exposure by 1950. And I mourned the loss of 140 000 lives.



I grew up with the names Hiroshima and Nagasaki in my subconscious. Both my grandfather and my father spoke of the end of the war in the Pacific Ocean with sadness. Both spoke of the necessity of dropping the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in order to end the war. The story of my youth goes like this: The Allied leaders were concerned about attacking Japan. Personnel at the American Navy Department estimated the invading Allies would suffer between 1.7 and 4 million casualties in such a scenario, of whom between 400,000 and 800,000 would be dead, while Japanese casualties would have been around 5 to 10 million.[1] It was therefore argued that dropping the atom bomb actually saved lives.

I have since discovered that this is simply untrue. In the words of Dwight D Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe: "Japan was already defeated and dropping the bomb was completely unnecessary."[2]

Other military leaders concurred:

Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander in Chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, reflected this reality when he wrote, "The Japanese had, in fact, already sued for peace.the atomic bomb played no decisive part, from a purely military point of view, in the defeat of Japan." Admiral William D. Leahy, Chief of Staff to President Truman, said the same thing: "The use of [the atomic bombs] at Hiroshima and Nagasaki was of no material assistance in our war against Japan. The Japanese were already defeated and ready to surrender."[3]

 
Oh Crap! So someone told a lie. But why was it told? Well it seems that everything was about influence in the Pacific. The Americans were worried about the communists gaining influence in China if communist Russia moved into the Pacific. The United States needed to end the war immediately, before Russia declared war on Japan. So dropping the bomb was about US self-interest in the Pacific.

And I am more convinced than ever that Jesus is right when he challenges his followers to “Love your enemies” (Luke 6:27). I have never understood this commandment as a submissive acquiescence to injustice. It demands rigorous resistance of all that is evil – including war. War does not make us better human beings. It brings us all down to the same level of evil. I continue to commit my life to teaching and practising peace.

 

We're sick and tired of hearing,
That the world is gonna blow,
So there's something we'll do to the leaders,
Before we go;

Let's stick 'em in a room together - Yeah!!
And make them fight it out,
Until they see nothing from nothing,
Will leave nothing at all,

The Getaway - Chris De Burgh

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[1] http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/operation_downfall.htm

[2] http://www.commondreams.org/views06/0806-25.htm

[3] Ibid.

My Japanese Easter moment

I had an Easter moment in Japan.

Despite the fact that daily life in Japan shows absolutely no sign of this being the Easter weekend – I encountered God in a Shinto shrine.

Amy tells me that modern Japanese people see themselves as a secular society. So I did some research, and found that their history is a combination of Shinto and  Buddhism. We have visited both Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines. Some are placed magnificently on top of hills, while others are tucked away alongside bustling city roads.

I also discovered that the Emperor Meiji found Shinto to be a useful tool to unify Japan. He made Shinto the official religion, known as State Shinto, with shrines under government control. Later, during World War Two, Japanese nationalism required everyone to participate in State Shinto and accept the Emperor as divine. After the war, the shrines were taken out of government control, and State Shinto was abolished

It seems that since then, organized religious participation has declined, Japanese society has become secular, and religious study in general has become less important. Perhaps this is a reaction to the state using the religious sentiments of the people for political purposes. What we have observed, however, is that the people are still spiritual. The shrines all have fresh flowers, the temples have burning candles and incense, and there is a steady stream of people visiting their holy places to offer prayers.

Which brings me to my God-moment.

Yesterday – Easter Saturday - Amy took us to visit a local Shinto Shrine in Sasayama. It is called Ojiyama makekirai inari. This can be loosely translated as “hate to lose”, which indicates that this is a place to pray for victory. Many students come here to pray for success in examinations. We climbed the rows and rows of stairs up the hill towards the shrine at the top. They are intended to slow a person down, to allow us to pause, and breathe, and think. And they do.

Jenny and I were taking pictures, and enjoying the sense of leaving the noise of the town and entering a tree-lined sanctuary, when things changed for me. I found myself standing in front of a shrine just to the left, and below, the main shrine. And I lost my desire to take more photographs, or to talk, or to do anything other than stand in silence. I had this sense that God was enveloping me. I knew that I was loved, and I stood rooted to the spot in silent awe. After a while I found one of the candles placed in front of the shrine and lighted it in reverence for this moment of peace.



Ojiyama makekirai inari

 As I stepped back I saw that the shrine was crowned with a cross. I do not have a clue what symbolism was intended by those who built this shrine – but this was my Easter place. I prayed at the foot of this cross, and my spirit was renewed. Jenny and Amy joined me in lighting candles, and there was really no need for words. We worshipped God.

 

Sakura and a Blossoming Spring.

We have arrived in Japan just as the cherry blossoms are coming out. And they are stunning in their beauty. Their flowers literally take over their cherry-trees (called "sakura").The Japanese hold flower-viewing parties (Hanami), in which large numbers of people arrive at parks, shrines, and temples with family and friends to enjoy a spring break. 

These flowers are so eagerly anticipated, that the Japanese Meteorological Agency posts a nightly forecasts of the sakura zensen (cherry blossom front) as it moves from south to north with the approach of warmer weather.

In Japan, while the cherry blossoms can represent innocence, simplicity and spring, they have a long standing symbolic value: In the past, the samurai culture admired the flower since samurais (like the cherry blossom) were considered to have a relatively short life expectancy… and also because they believed the flower represented drops of blood.

For many, the transience of the blossoms - their extreme beauty and quick death - is embodied in the concept of mono no aware (もののあはれ^?). [1] Mono no aware - literally "the pathos of things" - is a Japanese term for the awareness of impermanence (無常, mujō^?), or transience of things, and a gentle sadness at their passing.

For us as visitors, we have loved the flowers, and have enjoyed the wonderment of the people as they emerge from their winter into spring.

 

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[1] The association of the cherry blossom with mono no aware dates back to 18th-century scholar Motoori Norinaga.^]

Ame-mura

Today, in Osaka-Shi we walked through ‘American town’. And I suppose it makes sense. In South Africa I have visited ‘China Town’, and ‘Indian Town’ and ‘Little Italy’ – so why not have an ‘American Town’ in the middle of a very large Japanese City. It is called Ame-mura by the Japanese and is located in Shinsaibashi in the Minami district of Osaka.

Let us be clear: This section of the city is not American. It is really an expression of the fascination of Japanese young people with all things American. This consists of shops selling American branded clothing and the products of American chain food outlets. There are Japanese girls who dress in jeans and impossibly high heels, who dye their hair blond or brown, and who wear hip-hop caps. The music of American musicians play in every shop, and leather jackets and high tops are the uniform of the young men.

In truth, it is lively and fun and young – and Japanese.

 

Beautiful Kyoto

We spent the day in Kyoto (phonetically pronounced 'Ki-your-door'). This is the city that gives its name to an international treaty.[1]  Well - today this city was beautiful. The cherry blossoms are budding, which adds beauty to an already lovely city.

This is a city of startling contrasts. It is a busy city of bicycles, scooters, pedestrians, cars and busses; it is a city of fashion shopping, the newest gadgets and digital offerings, alongside ancient shrines and temples; a city of beautiful women in high heels under miniskirts, alongside elaborately made up girls in the traditional kimono.

I Can hear you exclaim – “Kimono? Didn’t the Japanese shed their traditional dress in the mid 19^th century with the import of suits dresses and other western fashions?” Yes they did. The men all wear suits and ties to work, and the women dress exquisitely and in the latest fashions. But it would seem that on holidays, and for special events the kimono and other accoutrements of the geisha or maiko are still popular with Japanese girls. I guess the arrival of the cherry blossoms warranted a ‘kimono outing’.

So we were spoiled with a festival of colours, and are grateful for the day.

 

 

 

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[1] The Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) is an international treaty that sets binding obligations on industrialized countries to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

Pilgrimage

It is actually covered in sheets of pure gold!

This is the Golden Pavilion Temple, also called Kinkaku-ji in Japanese. This magnificent Zen temple was built in 1397 and it is located in Kyoto. It was intended as a shariden, storing the remains of the Buddha’s ashes. The entire temple is surrounded by a beautiful garden that looks out on the Mirror Pond.

But what was originally designed to be a tranquil setting, with waterfalls, quiet gardens and expansive space for prayers and contemplation was shattered by the crowds of Japanese tourists who flocked to this site. Cameras clicked, people commented at the beauty of the setting, and the curio stalls did a roaring trade. People queued to ring the prayer bell, and wave the incense of the prayer sticks over themselves. My first reaction was one of sadness. Here was a secular curiosity at the ‘old ways’, which is now nothing more than a commercial venture.

It was my daughter Amy’s astute comment that changed my mind: “Look at the age of these tourists Dad” she said. The majority are young people. She noted that these young people come back again and again to sites such as these. They come for picnics in summer, and see this as a suitable place to take a girl/boyfriend on a date. This has become one of the places of pilgrimage for the youth of Japan. This is not a visit done in solemn silence: it is noisy, talkative and interactive. But they keep coming back.

So I sat outside of the monk's platform, where they used to pray overlooking the lake - and offered a prayer for God's blessing on all who seek a spiritual life.

 

 

International Eating.

Oh the irony of being South Africans in Japan, ordering kebabs in an Indian restaurant, off a menu written in Japanese. The waiter was a very polite Japanese man, who knew the English names of the food on the menu. The chef was Japanese, who came out of the kitchen to thank us for coming to eat. The Indian was the photograph on the wall, the music, the decor, and the excellent food. That was fun.
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Checking the Labels.

I have just returned from shopping at Seven Eleven. And I had to do my shopping by pictures and familiar international brands. This is because I am shopping in Sasayama, Japan.

I have come to visit my daughter Amy, who is an English teacher in a small Japanese town, made famous for its black bean harvest and wild boar hunting. Amy began last August, and has just renewed her contract for another year. When her Granny Edwina John heard this, she decided that she needed to visit her granddaughter. So at 88yrs old, she instructed Jenny and me to accompany her on a Japanese adventure.

The trip to Osaka (with a stop in Dubai) took us 24 hours. Amy met us at the airport, and got us back to her home, via a bus shuttle into the city, an hour’s train trip north-west into the country, and a car ride from the station to her home. Needless to say, we were exhausted, and slept for the next 12 hours. Which takes me to the shopping excursion.

There I was patrolling the shelves while Jenny, Amy and Granny did the real shopping. (You understand that men browse for interesting, and often ‘off the list’ things, while women buy the necessary stuff that keeps us alive).The problem was that I did not know what I was looking at. The shelves were full – but incomprehensible. The labels were in Japanese. Then, just as I was getting desperate, I saw a label I recognised:  Nestlé . It was with relief that I confidently approached the shelf in search of coffee.... only to find that while the brand was recognisable, the rest of the writing on the bottle was Japanese! So I have come back to Amy’s home clutching a bottle of インスタントコーヒー.

And I am happy.

 

Joining those who are stripped of their power.

Luk 4:1-13  Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread."  Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone.'"   Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'" Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'"  When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

 

This has been a week that has dis-empowered women: this was the week in which Reeva Steenkamp, was shot four times on the morning of Valentine's Day; a week in which a policeman in Koster (North West) shot and wounded his wife before killing himself; this was the week that we mourned the gang-rape and murder of Aneen Booysen,

Jesus came to our world to speak about power.

But this is not the power one has when dependent poor people flock to you to be fed from your largesse; it is not the aura of a powerful political ruler when all bow before you; and it is not that of a worker of powerful magic that attracts gullible crowds. This is not the power that comes from getting on top of other people; and this is never the power that comes from “making a name for myself”. Instead this is the power that prompts us to sit alongside the weak, and the hungry, and suffering – and give them courage for life. This is the power to have compassion for the little people, and the forgotten people, and those who are abused and raped.

This was the week that we began Lent: a time when we mark ourselves with ashes to show our solidarity with those who sit in ashes. It is a week when we voluntarily take on a symbol of suffering through fasting. This was also the week where women asked us to show solidarity with those who are raped and abused through a campaign called ‘Thursdays in Black – Towards a world without rape and violence’.

It is time for us all to invoke the power of God to join the victims in their grief;  to assist victims to get back on their feet; and to work for a society that takes power away from bullies, and violent men, and all who seek to crush the life out of the weak. I will join the Thursdays in Black campaign as my commitment for Lent. And I will commitment my time, effort and power to protecting the weak and the powerless.

So does God care?

Yesterday I described how Dianne Worringham, Mark Duncan and myself were running down Alexander Road extension, when we came across an accident: a drunk driver had driven into a runner out training in the early morning and killed him.

Does God care about this?

see my reflection on this at www.rockinthought.blogspot.com

Lost for Words

This morning at 8am a drunk driver drove into runners out training and killed one of them. We were running the same road, probably fifteen minutes behind them.  Running with Mark and Diane, we came across the scene – a car that had driven up an embankment and rolled; a bloodied driver sitting on the pavement; and a distraught runner repeating over and over again that “he has been cut in half”.

I experienced a range of emotions – and have not yet worked them all out.

·         I was grateful that we had not been 15 minutes earlier in our run. It could have been us!

·         I was/am still angry that someone can be under the influence of alcohol at 8am in the morning....

·          and even angrier that this person should choose to drive a car. Driving after drinking seems to be part of our culture.  Men do not even blink when they pick up their car keys after a few drinks. Even more disturbing is the fact that the people around such a person do not protest or stop him.

Once again I state my case: I am opposed to mixing alcohol and motor vehicles. Anyone driving on the road should not drink at all. It is as simple as that. I drive sober. Period.

I pray for the family who have lost someone they have loved – because another person chose to impair his driving skills with alcohol.

Ignorance is Bliss

So I was stalked this week!

I was walking down Boom Street in Pietermaritzburg heading for Pieter Kerchoff Street, quietly minding my own business. Unbeknown to me I was being followed by two men who were discussing the contents of the sling bag I carry over my shoulder.  They speculated aloud whether I was carrying a camera, or if there were other valuable things inside it.  I, unaware of this conversation, reached the travel agent I was seeking and entered the building. We all went on our way having missed the moment that we might have met each other in an unfortunate encounter.

I only know this because our Seminary caretaker was walking down the same road behind the two men, listening to their conversation. He was wondering how he could intervene to prevent anything happening. He too went on his way, relieved that the moment had passed.

Musicals

I grew up loving musicals. My first memory is of Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke singing in the musical film Mary Poppins. This was followed by Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, and Julie Christie and Christopher Plummer in The Sound of Music, a host of singing stars in Oliver, and the catchy songs from the Jungle Book. My coming of age memories were deeply shaped by the Rocky Horror Picture Show, John Travolta and Olivia-Newton John in Grease, and Neil Diamond in the Jazz Singer. With the arrival of my children I have happily sung my way through the songs from the Lion King, Beauty and the Beast, and a host of other Disney movies.

My love of musical movies was supplanted by a love of musical stage productions. Because of South Africa’s apartheid-isolation from international arts, we had to be content with hearing recordings of the musicals by Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyrics by Tim Rice rather than seeing them.  I learned the words for Joseph, for Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita and Phantom of the Opera. In 1984 Jenny and I visited London, and were blown away by the live stage performance of Evita, followed a few nights later by Cats. We were hooked on live musicals – and as South Africa opened up to musicals we have enjoyed everything from Chicago to David Kramer’s District Six. But my all time favourite is Les Misérables.

Les Misérables , first published as a Victor Hugo historical novel in 1862, is a reflection on the tension in live between Grace and Law. My friend Alan Brews bought Jenny and me tickets to see it in Cape Town, and we were deeply moved by its message of hope in the love of God. I was privileged to see it again in New York with my friends Charmaine Morgan and Sidwell Mokgothu. Again I was moved to tears. Now it has come out as a musical film, and I intend seeing it. Will keep you posted.       

 

PS: I am intrigued to discover that the lyricist for the English-language musical adaptation is South African born Herbert Kretzmer. Born in Kroonstad in 1925 of Lithuanian Jewish immigrants William and Tilly Kretzmer, he left South Africa to become a journalist and theatre critic in London. He turned the original French words into the English version that – as of the end of 2012 - has become the longest running musical in the West End.

Breakfast Ride

There were 16 bikes and an open road. Need I say any more?

The club is called 100s - as in "how is it going?" "I am hundreds". This is local slang for "everything is just great". And that was the mood this morning. It poured with rain last night, with storm warnings for today. But we set out in relatively clear weather, and had a dry day. The club insists on three rules: wear a reflective jacket, ride in formation, and no drinking and driving. This suits me because it makes for safer riding, and less stress when there are a whole lot of bikes around me on the road.

We headed for Scottburgh for breakfast. And took the back road/off highway road. Not only was it a great ride, but I got to meet some great people. I am just hundreds today.

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Thundered into Submission

Mark Duncan & Pete Grassow

Last night I was washed away.

A text message from my friend Mark initiated the episode: “Pick you up at 5:15 to run the time trial”. This is a weekly meeting of our running club where we either run a fast 4km or 8km over a measured (and timed) route. It is intended to keep us sharp, and to improve our speed. Usually it is my reminder of how the passing of the years has slowed my legs, so I did not go often in 2012. But this is a new year, and time for new resolutions. Mark and I have committed ourselves to being at the weekly time trial for 2013.

Yesterday saw a gradual building of an enormous thunderstorm, and by mid-afternoon lightning and thunder swirled over Pietermaritzburg.  When the text popped into my in-box I had hoped it would say something like – “Let us skip this afternoon” but instead he added “Be prepared to get wet”. Mark is a hard core runner! Because I was not about to be outdone by him, I waited dutifully at my gate at 5:15 ... in the rain. We drove to the run with mark cheerfully reassuring me that the rain was stopping.

Six of us arrived to run. A few more arrived, declaring that they were not running – one of whom is the top female runner in the club. She said that the thunder was returning, and Mark scoffed at her comment: “It has stopped raining” was his confident assertion. We set off at a blistering pace (in my opinion), and within minutes it began raining. At the 1km mark the rain got harder, and one of the (many) runners ahead of me turned back home. I gritted my teeth and kept going:  Mark was ahead of me, and I was not going to be out done by him. By 2km thunder was cracking overhead, and rain was running down the road in rivers. The 3km point saw me drenched to the bone, and splashing through the water that ran off the pavement. A car stopped to offer me a lift – and behold it was Mark! He had taken a short cut back to start to get his car and told me to get in.

Smugly I waved him on, telling him that I was a better man than he, and would not be frightened by a little bit of water. As he drove off I immediately regretted my hasty words as lightning cracked nearby, and the rain came pounding down. “Foolish prideful idiot”! But instead of leaving me to suffer the consequences of my pride, Mark proved to be a good friend, and stopped further down the road where I gratefully accepted a lift. As things turned out, everyone had abandoned the run and found shelter.

 

Oh – the “blistering pace” turned out to be a very pedestrian 5:30 minutes per km!     

 

 

Sunday - Stormday

Sunday was a hot and humid Pietermaritzburg day. The kind of day that wakes you to sticky lethargy.  Lisa, Jenny and I went to church at Prestbury Methodist, where I had the privilege of leading worship, and being able to appreciate the preaching of Dianne Worringham. She is a gifted minister, and I valued her challenge to discipleship. Her essential thought was this: “A disciple of Jesus can only become a leader if first prepared to be lead by another.”

We then shared a long, lazy lunch at the Duckpond. This restaurant is behind a nursery, under shady trees with – naturally – a duckpond ..... and lots more ducks than we normally encounter. It is run by Riaan, who told us that someone had contacted him just before Christmas and asked if they could drop off some ducks. He was away, and told his manager to expect “some ducks” to be added to the three or four that normally swim in the pond. To his dismay, when he returned he found forty ducks swimming in his pond. I would not be surprised if the Sunday menu is altered shortly!

Back home in the afternoon saw the day getting darker and darker, as storm clouds began building in the sky. The humidity had built to a poihnt where we longed for the storm to break, and restore some cool air. Then the distant thunder was heard approaching over the hills from Durban, with the beginnings of lightening. At four in the afternoon the storm struck Pietermaritzburg. We experienced fierce winds, followed by torrential rain, and rumbles of thunder, laced with lightening. The back yard began rapidly filling with water from our over-flowing gutters, and for 30 minutes it became difficult to hear ourselves speak.  Subsequent to this storm we have discovered that many, many trees were felled across the city, accompanied by the destruction of walls, roofs and powerlines.

Jenny and I went outside to look at the retreating storm, and were struck by the silence after the storm – punctured by a lone bird tweeting a defiant tune. I can only imagine the terror this bird must have felt during the storm, contrasted by such joyous release expressed in song afterwards. Perhaps this is the essence of life: we have moments of fear.

Let us learn to sing our way through our fears, and so reclaim life after the storm.